Prologue

You have no power over me. The words rang again and again through the mind of the Goblin King, pinging around in his skull with all the danger of stones flung in a glass house. He collapsed into his throne, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

How could he have let this happen? He had never lost control of a runner before. He was always, always two steps ahead. He knew how to manipulate a move before they even made it; he had ensured that the only possible outcome was failure. And fail they had. One after another, century after endless century. No one had ever before had the force of will to make it through his labyrinth.

Until that damned little bitch Sarah Williams, he thought, grinding his teeth to the point of discomfort. He had never imagined that a spoiled brat of a girl would have the strength to endure and outwit him. Who would have thought that behind those wide, green eyes was a creature that matched the beast within him? Who would have ever thought she had the nerve to overcome him? But overcome him she had, proving herself a most admirable challenger.

And that was the worst of it. Through it all, he could not help but admire her. She had stood up to him in ways no one else had ever dared. She had met his challenges and turned his subjects against him. She was clever and resourceful when need be and caring and compassionate when it was not. He had told her that he moved the stars for no one, and it was true. But she did not need him to; she had turned the world upside down all on her own. And he hated her for it.

That's a lie, a different part of his subconscious chirped. Jareth scowled, sinking deeper into his throne.

It is not. She's ruined my favorite game, and I hate her, he argued back.

You could never hate her.

Yes I could. I do.

You don't. You l-

"Oh, shut up!" Jareth barked aloud, hoping to silence his unruly subconscious. He was somewhat surprised when a voice answered back.

"Now, now, brother. Is that any way to greet a guest?"

His head snapped around, taking in the latest intrusion. His eyes fell on a lithe figure sitting on the edge of the pit at the center of the room. She was swinging her legs idly back and forth, as comfortable as if she had spent the better part of her life reclining there. When, in truth, her presence there was as startling as seeing a goblin take flight.

Jareth shook his head as though to clear it. "What are you doing here?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his confusion and slight distrust.

The elegant woman giggled in response. "You mean you haven't guessed? I must confess, Jareth, I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this."

Jareth glared at her, disliking the way she seemed to know something he didn't. He was equally angry with himself for allowing her to catch him off-guard. It had been decades since he'd had a private audience with his younger sister, and millennia since they'd had an encounter that ended peacefully. If she was here, in the castle, it meant she was plotting something. And he was not presently in the correct frame of mind to deal with her schemes.

"Get out," he ordered plainly.

"You're hurting my feelings, you know," she said with a mock pout. Her bottom lip trembled terribly, and she sniffled like she was holding back tears. Only the mischief in her clear blue eyes gave her away.

He regarded her carefully, his lip snarling in distaste. "All the more reason to leave quickly, then."

Jareth moved forward as if to stand, fully intent on grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and throwing her out. But as he attempted to rise, a wave of exhaustion swept over him, forcing him back into his throne. She noticed, of course, and flashed a grin that could cut like a knife.

"Feeling tired, love? Perhaps you should retire for the evening."

"And leave you here alone?" he asked, fighting against the grogginess with wit. "You must have smacked that pretty little head of yours on the way here."

She shrugged in response. "Say what you will. I'm not the one with droopy eyelids."

Jareth forced his eyes open, suddenly very aware of how hard it was to do so. "What do you know of this?" he implored.

"Who me? Why should I know anything?" she feigned innocence.

"Delicia…" he ground out.

"Jareth," she challenged back.

He growled to himself. This was getting him nowhere. He would not have the strength to endure this for much longer. His limbs were growing heavy, and they tingled faintly like they had already given in to sleep.

"Please," he conceded, "Tell me why you are here."

Sighing, she withdrew herself from the pit and approached him. "Father's angry with you."

He used the remains of his energy to laugh. "Father's always angry with me."

"True," she allowed, "But before you had never let a child best you in battle."

Jareth prickled at that. Damn, he knows, he cursed while simultaneously scolding himself for not anticipating this. Of course he knows. He never did have much faith in his precious baby boy.

"I underestimated her," he sighed, admitting defeat.

"That's not how Father sees it."

"Oh, and how does our darling father see it?" he roared, finally succeeding in sitting upright on the throne.

Delicia did nothing but stare for a few moments, allowing the heat of his anger to pass before dropping her bomb. "He believes you have fallen in love with her."

Jareth squirmed in his seat, pulling a gloved hand through his hair. He should have anticipated this as well. In allowing thoughts of Sarah, he had obviously let a few things slip by him. "And what makes him believe that?"

"Did you not think he would hear about that little gala you put on for her earlier in the evening? Really, Jareth, you should try to keep up. Half the gentry in the kingdom saw the way you looked at her."

"Including you," he said, noting that she was still dressed in her sage-green ball gown, her pale blond hair immaculately curled. She was absent only the garish mask of a goblin.

"Including me."

"Is he as angry at you for attending as he is with me for hosting?"

"I'm not the one who wanted to fuck the little girl," she quipped, making Jareth scowl in distaste. "Though I must say, she did have a certain amount of…innocent charm. Given a few years I might have tried my luck with her."

Jareth was in her face then, suddenly and frighteningly. He grasped her by the jaw just hard enough for her to feel it and burned his gaze into hers. He could feel the alarm pulsing through her. Though it was true they had not gotten along in years, Jareth had never placed a foul hand on her until now. He was pleased to note that it was having the desired effect.

"You will never make such an implication again, Delicia, do you understand?" he snarled. "Sister or no, if I suspect you of doing her harm, I will not hesitate to stop you by any means necessary."

He released her then, allowing her to fret over his abrasiveness, though he had barely left a mark. "Heavens help us, you really are in love with her, aren't you?"

"Love has nothing to do with it," he grumbled. His outburst left him almost completely drained, his tongue beginning to feel thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"You poor fool. Love has everything to do with it. Father could not care less if you bedded her, or bogged her, or turned her into a goblin maid to shine your shoes. But love is where he draws the line."

"Well you can assure Father that he need not concern himself on that front. I love Sarah Williams even less than I love you."

"While I'd be flattered to be held in such high regard, this isn't a matter that can be so easily swept under the rug. Why, you're showing signs of it already."

Jareth's ears pricked at that. What is she talking about? He quickly tried to categorize what he was presently feeling into some sort of diagnosis, but he came up with nothing.

"Signs of what?" he asked, dreading her answer.

Delicia face lit up like she was finally able to let him in on the greatest of all jokes. "Of dying."

Jareth froze in his throne as if ice water rather than blood were suddenly pumping through his veins. He could not be dying. Fae lived for thousands upon thousands of years. He had only just begun to chip away at his life expectancy. No, Delicia was mistaken. He was fit, and healthy, and powerful…

Powerful. That was it. Suddenly it all made perfect sense. His fatigue, his loss of focus, his inability to remain upright. It all came back to power. And the longer he sat there, the more he could feel it leaking out of him. With his every breath it seemed to ooze out of his pores and get sucked up by the air.

"De- Delicia," he groaned, "You must take me to Father."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Jareth had lost track of her as he pieced everything together, and found that her voice came from behind him as she blew out the last of the candles that lit the room.

"You see, brother dear, your little lapse in judgment has created quite the opportunity for me." She was circling the room now, making Jareth's head loll as he fought through the dizziness to keep an eye on her. "A king without powers is no king at all. And without a strong ruler, the Goblin City will fall to pieces. Which is where I step in…"

"Why the sudden interest? You've always hated the goblins," Jareth retorted, feebly trying to extend his waning time.

"True, but it's not really the inhabitants that I'm after. It's the sovereignty that comes with it.

"You see, love, as your power fades, so does your connection to this part of the kingdom. And without you, the labyrinth will seek out a new ruler. Someone strong, and capable, and close enough to take charge. Once it's selected its new leader, all of its power will flow to her."

"You'll never rule this place!" he snarled, not caring if it was an empty threat.

Delicia laughed full in his face. "Oh you poor, precious thing. Can't you see? My reign has already begun."

Jareth looked down as shackles snaked their way around his wrists and ankles, making it impossible for him to move. Now frantic, he glanced around the throne room for some means of defense that he could call on, some way to get out of this nightmare.

He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the goblins beginning to crowd around the door. Surely they would help him. They could look past getting kicked around and bogged a time or two, couldn't they? He was a good king to them. He allowed them to drink ale until they burst, to bring their precious chickens into the palace. He even sang and danced with them! They would do well to defend their sovereign.

But as they crept closer, Jareth's relief caught in his throat. There was something off about his goblins. They lacked the perpetually cheerful demeanor of the dim witted. The creatures before him now moved much more aggressively than what he was used to. And their eyes…They were not his goblins anymore. He could see that clear as day.

Jareth slumped back in his throne. He was tired and no longer had the strength to remain upright. Defeat crashed over him in a great tidal wave of despair, and his chains seemed to tighten all the more for it.

This is all her fault. He thought, biting his tongue as he did. All of this pain, all of this humiliation because of Sarah. He did not care how thoroughly his father and sister were convinced of his love for her; in that moment, he swore to loathe Sarah Williams forever.